Published: Sunday, February 3, 2013 at 5:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Sunday, February 3, 2013 at 9:34 p.m.

DELAND — First Sarah and Kris Holycross pawned their jewelry, flat-screen TVs and the couch.

But the money to buy prescription pills went fast. With a price tag of $200 a day, they always needed more money to feed their addiction.

So in the spring of 2011 they sold the car television that their then-3-year-old son Kristopher and 2-year-old daughter Brooklyn loved to watch movies on during trips. They sold the washer and dryer on Craigslist and returned diapers to the store for cash.

When all of the furniture was gone, the young couple moved their bed into the living room. The hardest items to pawn were their children's bikes. As Kris drove away from the pawnshop he cried.

The couple's addiction had already cost them their jobs. Their home and children would be next if they didn't get help.

"Even with our kids on the line we couldn't stop," Kris said. "Sarah and I would hold each other and cry. Our lives had become miserable and full of chaos."

At their lowest point they knew they could not continue living this way but did not know how to escape addiction on their own. It would take the support of family and counselors — and relapses that brought shame to Kris and Sarah and frustration to those trying to help them — before they could stand on their own two feet.

LIVES TORN APART

The Holycrosses are just one family among thousands that have been torn apart by rampant prescription drug abuse in Florida. The consequences go far beyond the addicts and their families, straining the social services network, law enforcement and virtually every strata of society.

The foster care system — a possibility that haunted Kris and Sarah — is among the hardest hit.

Local child welfare officials say easy access to painkillers sends an influx of children into the child welfare system. In Volusia and Flagler counties, about 70 percent of abuse and neglect cases are related to prescription drug abuse, said Mark Jones, chief executive officer of the Community Partnership for Children in Daytona Beach.

"We want families to take care of kids and not the foster care system," Jones said. "It should only be a last resort when all other means have been exhausted."

In 2010 Florida led the nation in prescription-drug misuse with 620 million pills dispensed from pharmacies and physicians, according to the Drug Enforcement Administration. In March 2011, Gov. Rick Scott created the statewide Drug Enforcement Strike Force initiative to monitor doctors and pharmacies prescribing pills. In September 2011, the Florida Department of Health established a prescription drug database that controls when substances are dispensed and allows law enforcement agencies to track abusers and pill mills.

Those efforts appear to be working: In 2011 the amount of prescription pills distributed statewide fell by 17.7 percent to 497 million.

While the state and local governments are making headway, much work still lies ahead to change the course, said Jones. Prescription drug addiction does more than just tear families apart, he said. It leads to homelessness, unemployment, prostitution, poverty and even death. An average of seven people die each day in the state of Florida due to illegal or non-medical overdoses of prescription drugs, according to the Florida Department of Law Enforcement.

In 2012, Stewart-Marchman-Act Behavioral Healthcare admitted 1,920 clients to its detoxification program and residential treatment programs in Daytona Beach, Palatka, and Bunnell, said Stewart-Marchman CEO Chet Bell . More than half of those clients were abusing prescription drugs. The agency's annual budget of $6.7 million is funded by taxpayers.

"Things are getting better but we still have a community that was flooded with prescription drugs for five years and they are still widely available and widely prescribed," Bell said

As of Dec. 31, Stewart-Marchman's inpatient treatment program had a waiting list of 83 people.

"You don't want to have a waiting list in the line of work we do," Bell said. "If you have people with an addiction who are seeking treatment, they are ready (to get help) at a certain time. When we try to contact them a week later we can't reach them or they are no longer interested."

CYCLES OF ADDICTION

Sarah, 23, and Kris, 30, struggled off and on with addiction for most of their teenage and adult lives. The couple met in 2006 at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting when Sarah was three days clean and Kris was 90 days into his recovery.

"They warn you against getting involved with someone when you are beginning your recovery," Sarah said. "But we were inseparable and leaned on each for support and strength."

They both understood what it was like to come from a broken home. Sarah's parents divorced when she was in middle school and she spent her formative years moving back and forth to DeBary where her father lived and Fort Myers where she grew up.

Kris grew up in DeLand but moved to Ohio with his dad during high school after his parents divorced. Kris said his dad worked two jobs to make ends meet and he was often left alone.

Kris pointed to a car accident in 1999 that left him with two skull fractures and a collapsed lung as the point when things started going downhill. Kris began using painkillers to mask his mental and physical pain, he said. After years of drug abuse and getting in trouble with law enforcement, Kris started attending NA meetings at his family's urging.

Kris and Sarah were determined to start a new life. Over the next few years, they moved in together and had two children. Kris had a good job in sales at a local telecommunications company and Sarah worked as a certified nursing assistant at a local nursing home. But as life got busier, NA meetings became less frequent.

"Everything was going so well," Sarah said. "We had great jobs and we were focused on being parents. But taking the kids to our recovery meetings was a huge distraction."

As they slipped away from the accountability of their peers and sponsors, it was only a matter of time before temptation would visit again.

In the summer of 2010 Kris, who was four years into his recovery, was prescribed pain pills after a root canal. Instead of having his sponsor administer the pills, he gave them to Sarah. Before long, Kris was asking for extra pills. Eventually, Sarah gave in to his demands.

"I was fighting him at first but it got to the point where he was going to do what he wanted to do," Sarah recalled. "That's when I knew the relapse was happening. But I wanted to share the same energy he felt."

Kris and Sara's pill of choice was Percocet. The 10 to 12 pills they took gave them a surge of energy that lasted for days. But after two or three days without sleep, the couple would crash into a deep coma-like sleep. They started to sleep through their alarms and didn't make it to work. As the absences stacked up, they were fired from their jobs. Kris said he lied to doctors about having pain and started to sell the pills they prescribed. When that wasn't enough, the couple started to pawn most of their belongings to satisfy their addiction.

TURNING POINT

When the Department of Children and Families came to investigate a call of neglect, Kris and Sarah knew they needed help. But it wasn't until their children went to live with relatives that they checked into a detox program.

Sarah said she always took care of her children's physical needs but admits her children were emotionally neglected during that time. The couple paid for day care so they could get high without their children at home, but Brooklyn and Kristopher would sometimes spend several hours in their room unsupervised while their parents stayed in their bedroom.

"We thought we were being better parents because we were hiding it from them instead of exposing them to it," Kris said. "We isolated ourselves from everyone we knew and didn't have any interest in anything other than getting high."

In September 2010, the couple checked into a detox facility in Orlando for a week. But to focus on their recovery, they were advised to attend separate recovery centers for a month. Because the couple went through the Seminole County court system, they were able to get into treatment immediately at a cost of $10 a day — reduced from $300 because of a sliding scale payment system, Kris said.

Kris eventually entered a transitional housing and recovery program at the Neighborhood Center in DeLand. The nonprofit organization provides food, recovery services, transitional housing and bill assistance to the homeless and the poor. When family members could no longer watch Brooklyn and Kris, the Neighborhood Center allowed the family to move into its only family transitional unit.

When the family moved in December 2010, the organization provided the family with gifts and a Christmas dinner. But by the end of January, the couple moved into their own apartment through Haven Recovery Center's rental assistance program. Kris and Sarah started working again. Their life seemed to be back on track. But the desire to use came back. This time, Sarah was the one who gave in first.

"I had burning desires to use that just wouldn't go away," Sarah said. "I couldn't get those thoughts out of my head."

Sarah said she tried to keep her inner struggles a secret from her sponsor because she was ashamed. But within weeks of using again, the couple lost their jobs, and when crack cocaine came into the picture they started pawning their belongings again. Sarah even pawned the vacuum cleaner and coffeepot.

"We instantly lost our jobs and that was the hardest bottom we had ever hit," Kris said. "After everything, we couldn't believe this was happening again. I was so mad at myself using again."

HOW MANY SECOND CHANCES?

Pat Vandivier, housing director at the Neighborhood Center, had helped the couple through their initial recovery and noticed that they weren't coming to meetings anymore. He suspected the worst.

"They weren't coming to meetings and they weren't returning my calls," Vandivier said. But when Vandivier ran into the couple at Walmart, he offered them a safe place to return to.

Because the young couple was full of remorse and shame, Vandivier said he did not want to lecture them or judge them. Addicts often relapse several times before making a full recovery, he said.

"You see people die from addiction," Vandivier said. "They overdose or kill themselves. People come and go. Unfortunately that's the way it is. So you try to reach out from a distance and do what you can to keep people from getting to that point."

Susan Clark, executive director of the Neighborhood Center, was hesitant at first to let the family come back. She required them to sign in and out, adhere to a strict curfew and attend all meetings. One of the hardest things about helping an addict recover is walking a fine line between a second chance and enabling, Clark said. Some people might relapse 15 times before making a recovery while others will never use again.

"I've worked with addicts for the last 23 years and it takes a bit of discernment to decide when someone is ready," Clark said. "But I really believe (Kris and Sarah) want to succeed and that they will. They have the desire and skills to do it."

ONE DAY AT A TIME

Early on a December morning, Kris and Sarah are getting Brooklyn and Kristopher ready for day care. A handwritten sign on their fridge reads: Family Values: Clean, Honesty, Accountability, Integrity, Respect, Serenity.

Kris prepares bowls of Cap'n Crunch cereal for the children as Sarah dresses them for the day. After the kids leave, Sarah and Kris will attend an NA meeting and Kris will head to work.

It's this kind of structure that the Holycross family has built into their daily lives. Kris lost his job at the telecommunications company after the first relapse in the fall of 2011. But in October 2012 he asked for a meeting with his former employer and shared the whole story about his relapses and recovery.

"I wanted to explain to them what had happened and apologize," Kris said. "I wasn't expecting to get my job back. I was just happy they agreed to meet with me."

That night Kris got a call from his former employer saying he was welcome back.

"They told me if I had not been as honest as I was they would not have brought me back on," he said. "I couldn't believe it."

Kris and Sarah also decided to make their commitment to recovery and each other public by getting married at the Neighborhood Center on Oct. 7. They were married on the grounds and employers pitched in by cooking food and decorating for a reception.

The family plans to move into their own place in a few months. But in the meantime, they are focused on building a routine and making up for lost time with their children.

The parents now read their children Dr. Seuss books before bed and go on walks around the neighborhood — something they weren't able to do when addiction ruled their lives.

"They were young enough where they didn't understand why their parents had to go away to treatment," Kris said. "They cried for their parents and I think that had an impact on them. We are still healing those scars. They have played a big role in our recovery because they have unconditional love for us."

It's through education and examining the roots of their behavior that Kris and Sarah are working to keep addiction as part of their past, they said.

Marlene McPherson , a counselor with an intervention program contracted through the Department of Children and Families, visits the Holycross home each week to monitor their progress.

"They have a real openness and willingness to work with their therapist and case manager," McPherson said. "They do everything that is asked of them and are very motivated."

Before the Holycross family leaves the Neighborhood Center they will plant a tree to symbolize the growth they have experienced over the past year. When his children are older, Kris plans on bringing them back to the Neighborhood Center and explaining why they had to live in the "brown house."

"I don't think you should ever give up on someone," Kris said. "You can't enable people but unconditional love will ultimately change people. I am blessed to be an American citizen because I have access to counseling and a facility that truly helps people get better. You are lucky enough to get one chance in life but two is unheard of. Now we want to give back and say thank you."

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